Hang On Tight

Tiny tethers, invisible threads, made out of words and pictures and feelings connect me to a world that has no substance in the presence, but whose existence gives substance to everything.

The quality of life so often depends on things that money can't buy, and I can't rearrange to suit my heart's desire.

Of course, as my father once said, in the course of things, it is easier to have money than not to have it.  It's just that in and of itself it isn't enough.

I remember reading somewhere that great minds focus on ideas and small minds on people, but it is my personal experience that people are involved in everything.  When I lose focus of them, I lose the richness of whatever is transpiring, or about to transpire, or even has transpired.  After all, what is an idea if it by-passes humanity?

So I am like one of those smiling kids you see in the hospital, the ones whose aunt sent them a big bouquet of balloons.  I stand here holding on to these strange little tethers and at the end of each one is what makes my life worthwhile, bits and pieces of me without which I would be someone else.

Sometimes I just gather them in close and surround myself with them, trying to sort out who I really am, but the truth is that I am a tall little girl covered in balloons that lift me up and stretch me out, and make me look like the person you think I am.